One Thing I Learned in our 42nd Year of Marriage

Next week my wife, Joyce, will share her one thing. Written by me, of course, because she wouldn’t dare.

On August 20^th we celebrate 42 years of marriage. Yes, 42. That’s a lot, doggone-it!

And I thought Joyce and I would share one thing we’ve learned this past year. Not what we’ve learned over 42 years…because that would be a very different piece.

This is it for me: I’ve learned how vital this relationship is to me.

I know…so basic, so general, so unhelpful. But that’s it. I’ve realized how important my marriage is to me. This is a relationship that must be good. We must have a connection. Maybe this isn’t healthy to say, but I’ll say it anyway: even for my basic mental health, I need this relationship to work.

I think part of it is that I’ve reached an age where my circle of male friends has shrunk considerably. It just has. And I see this to be true of many other men my age. And as that circle has become smaller, my relationship with Joyce has become bigger.

Now, I’m not talking about what I’ve also seen in some men…that their wife becomes the center, and only center of their world. They become needy and clingy and a bit neurotic. That’s weird to me, and the least of my problems.

But I am talking about the woman in my life becoming my main relationship and the connection that keeps me sane and grounded (although some might argue the sane and grounded part). This woman helps we wrestle through my spiritual quandaries and doubts and resets. She helps me weather the slings and arrows of work. And perhaps most of all, she likes the show Suits and Donna (on that show) as much as I do.  

To admit this level of importance to myself…to declare the vitalness of this relationship…is a bit scary to me. It makes me feel vulnerable. I feel exposed to actually put this on paper that she will read. Because I recognize how much power she has over me. If she wanted to, she could really hurt me. She could crush me. And that is humbling to acknowledge.

It was a podcast that I listened to recently that revealed all this to me. (And can I say…I love podcasts! They have enriched my life like no other media.) It was Dr. Sue Johnson on the Tim Ferriss show who talked about the primal need for connection that we all have. She shared some realistic things about her marriage. She shared about couples she has helped who were on the edge of exit. And she shared about “hold me tight” conversations that hold within them this vulnerability that I now feel. Essentially her message was this: Partners are asking each other: Can I count on you? Are you there for me? Will you respond to me when I need, when I call? Do I matter to you? Am I valued and accepted by you? Do you need me, rely on me?

But hey, I know all this stuff. I’ve heard it a thousand times. I’ve even taught it. But this year, in fact just last month, it hit me in a new way.

After listening to the podcast, I sent a link to all my sons with this text: “This will help you in your marriage…listen to it.” I had Joyce listen to it and I thought she’d love it. She walked into the kitchen and was just, “meh.”

“Meh? Are you kidding me?” So, I listened to it a second time. But still, no insight on why it touched me so.

But now, a month later, I think I’ve got it.

At 42 years into living with someone, they become part of your world, they become your world, the line between you and them becomes blurred. They become as normal as, let’s say, your hand. Let’s go further, like your right hand. They are a part of you. They just are…always…there. And the two of you are…just…the…way…you…are. The relationship almost becomes mindless, automatic, like breathing. Not necessarily in a bad way…just in a natural way.

But then you listen to a podcast that dissects the mechanics and intimacies and psychology and primal need of this most intimate of relationships. And suddenly, you realize what you have. You realize how life would be without that right hand. You realize how life would be if that hand didn’t cooperate or if did its own thing or turned on you or rebelled against you or ignored you. You’d have to learn how to write again and type and brush your teeth and eat and button your shirt.

And suddenly, you look at that right hand resting on the desk and you’ve never loved it so much. You kiss that hand. You caress it. You cradle it. You need it. You value it. You protect it like nothing you’ve ever protected in your life. Thank you, God, for that right hand.

Well, that’s my marriage. That’s what I learned in my 42^nd year.

Thanks Tim Ferriss and Dr. Sue Johnson. You’ve shown me afresh the blessing I have in my wife and in my life.

And thank you, Joyce, for 42 great years!

44 years ago at an Airsupply concert at the Colorado State Fair.

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